


Narcissus

by Tenacious_Minds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, The Dark Mark, mentions of sexual happenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 02:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenacious_Minds/pseuds/Tenacious_Minds
Summary: It takes one month for Harry to notice, two before he wants to fix it, but it takes Draco six months to be able to talk about it, and ten before he feels comfortable enough to show it. But fourteen months after the start of their relationship Draco and Harry are more in love than ever, and Draco is finally comfortable in his own skin.





	Narcissus

**Author's Note:**

> This was incredibly hard to write, but I pushed through, and while I'm not entirely sure I'm proud it it, I am pround that I wrote it. Thank you @hufflepuffs-deserve-love-to on tumblr for the fanastic prompt.

The first time Draco Lucius Malfoy lets Harry James Potter fuck him, he keeps his shirt on.

It seems distinctly disrespectful, shagging the boy who lived while flaunting the dark mark right in his face, so when Harry reaches for the shirt, to push it off his shoulders, Draco distracts him with a hand on his cock and a mouth on his neck, it seems to work well enough.

The next time Harry tries, Draco is ready, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them to the bed. Harry's eyes flash with something mischievous and proceeds to let Draco ravish him, hands never once straying to undo the final button holding the shirt in place.

After that, Harry seems to get the message, never trying to push his shirt that last little way off his shoulders, and Draco thinks he's won. He thinks that Harry doesn't want to see the ugly scar anymore then Draco does. He isn't sure if he's relieved or disappointed.

It isn't until a month later that Draco realizes Harry has just been biding his time.

It starts slowly; a soft caress down his arm, thumb lingering right were Draco knows the skull sits. His arm burns, and he wants to pull away, but Harry's attention is elsewhere, and Draco thinks that maybe he has forgotten, that he isn't as hyper-aware of its presence as Draco is, at all times of the day. But the next time it's a firm and constant hand, wrapped around his forearm in what should have seemed aggressive, but feels more like a tender hold, anchoring Draco in reality. After that he graduates to kisses, gentle and firm, right from his fingertips to the crook of his elbow, and then questioning, searching swipes of a thumb under his (now rather loose) wrist cuff, right against the ridge of scar tissue. It's enough to make Draco shudder and gently pull his arm away, but Harry keeps coming back to it, and eventually, he gives in.

When Harry once again tries to push his shirt down over his shoulders, Draco stops him and pulls away fully. He can't bring himself to look Harry in the eye, can't bring himself to confront the earnestly determined expression he knows Harry must be wearing.

"I know what you're doing."

Harry doesn't answer for a moment, but Draco can feel the way his hands squeeze what's left of the muscle on Draco's hips, hands gently rubbing circles in what Draco's certain is supposed to be relaxing. It normally would be, he thinks, but nothing could relax him right then.

"Hmm- Do you?"

"Yes, you're trying to get me comfortable enough to take off my shirt. Well, it's not going to happen" He hears Harry sigh, but he isn't paying attention. "I don't want you to see it, I don't want to see it. It's a blight, I don't, I can't have you think of me like that, like a death eater, I-"

"Draco."

"I don't-"

" _Draco_."

That stops him, that firm, no-nonsense tone of voice Draco has only heard a couple of times. Usually, he's so laid back, calm, if not totally carefree, and the contrast is shocking.

"Draco I'm- I get the feeling that you think I just want to get you out of your shirt and that's not- I've never been very good with words, you know? I've always been an action first kind of bloke. I want you to be comfortable, period. You're not a death eater, you never really were, _I know_ that, do you think I would be here if I didn't?"

"I don't understand."

Harry looks like he's seriously resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and something about that makes Draco want to lean down and kiss him, gently, with none of the hunger fuelled urgency that had coloured the rest of their meetings

"You can be really dense sometimes, you know that? I like you. A lot, and I want… I just want you to be okay." Harry looks embarrassed, cheeks flaming red, and nervous, as if he's worried Draco will kick him out the bed (which, to be clear, is _Harry's_ bed), but he doesn't once look away from Draco, staring intently into his eyes, as if he could communicate how much he means what he said through a look alone. Draco rather thinks he's succeeding, and it takes everything he has to look away from that gaze, because he's too tempted to give in, too vulnerable under the intense green of his gaze.

"I- I can't."

"Okay."

Draco's shocked, he hadn't expected him to give in so easily, and he's wary of future attempts, but Harry only nudges his hips, trying to push him off, and moves to the side of the mattress.

"Lie down, will you? I'm knackered and a nap sounds lovely right about now."

Still too caught up in his own thoughts to really protest, Draco lies down, facing Harry, and lets out a small gasp when he tugs him closer, laying Draco's head on his chest. (Draco would never admit it but the nap was rather lovely, in the end.)

 

***

Harry's efforts don't stop there, as Draco half expected.

He goes back to his soft kisses and even softer touches, except now they're both fully aware of why, and Harry looks him in the eye the whole time, before pushing up and placing a single, gentle kiss on Draco's lips. But he stops trying to take off Draco's shirt. Instead, he wants to talk.

He starts finding Draco in the Library, pulling out the chair across the table and spreading out in the same comfortable fashion he does in bed, limbs in all directions, and books and paper covering every available surface (just like the clothing he so efficiently divests both of them of).

Then he's dragging Draco out onto the grounds to lounge in the last vestiges of dying autumn sunlight, and when it gets too cold to do that, dragging him to the seventh-floor corridor where empty window ledges and cushioning charms let them soak in the winter sun without fear of frostbite. The first time he sits with Draco in the great hall there are startled whispers, but most everyone has seen them together at some point, and it seems to come as no great shock anyone.

So the first time Harry asks if he wants to talk about the mark, Draco wants to be surprised, but can't seem to find enough of it to be.

"Of course I don't want to talk about it, Potter."

He looks exasperated, but Draco isn't sure if it's because of his determination to not talk, or his stubborn refusal to call him anything but ‘Potter' outside the bedroom.

"Draco, I know it's hard, I do, but I just want you to be okay."

"I'm fine."

"Are you, though? You don't talk about any of it, not the mark, the war, your parents. I know it seems easier to just, bottle it all up, I did that most of the summer, hiding away in my room at the Burrow, but it feels better, to be able to talk about how you're feeling-"

"Harry," he stops talking then, looking Draco straight in the eye, "I don't want to talk about it."

Harry sighs, and his shoulders droop. "And I won't make you, but I just want you to know that you can, with me. I promise I'm not going to judge you, and, Merlin I know this sounds cliché, but it's true. You can talk to me about anything."

And with that Harry presses a firm kiss to Draco's lips, before leaning back against the window well, and dropping his feet in Draco's lap.

He has a hard time suppressing the smile that's threatening to bloom across his face.

Eventually, he gives up trying, and leans back too, resting his hands on Harry's bony ankles, and closing his eyes, focusing on the sound of Harry's voice when he starts reading aloud and letting himself drift off into his imagination.

 

***

Draco starts trying to share more with Harry. It's the first time he's felt comfortable enough to initiate conversation, and it's slow going, but Harry is solum and accepting, listening to Draco and offering advice only when asked, occasionally sharing a similar experience and… Draco finds that it helps. Something about knowing that he can come to Harry when a particularly bad memory is plaguing him, or when he feels like his whole life, his whole belief system, is unravelling before his eyes and it all gets too overwhelming, knowing that he can say these things and Harry won't judge him for it, only listen intently, and maybe, if Draco's lucky, give him a blow job afterwards, it makes it easier to deal with.

"Harry?"

He's half asleep, this time in Draco's bed. Everyone else is in class, and they'd snuck back into the dorms for their free period, intending, Draco assumes, to use the spare time for sex, but after a couple minutes of heated snogging, they'd ended up curled around each other,occasionally talking, but mostly just listening to each other breath.

"Hmmm, yes Draco?"

He can feel him stir, feel the way he shifts to look up at him, not bothering to remove his head from Draco's chest, and it makes Draco's heart swell, and he almost tells Harry the three words he's been holding back for two weeks now, but that's not what he wants to talk about.

"I think- no, I am ready to talk about it. The mark I mean."

Harry freezes, and Draco wonders for a moment if he's ruined it, if Harry's changed his mind and he doesn't want to talk about it after all, but his worry melts away when Harry's face appears above his own, and Harry's hand moves from where it had been resting on his stomach to his cheek, smoothing small circles onto his cheekbone. It takes effort not to close his eyes and lean into the touch, he needs to focus, if he wants to get the words out.

"Are you sure?" Harry looks worried, and the expression is enough to wipe out any doubt Draco was harbouring.

"Ya I- I don't think I'm ready to show you, yet, but I want to, work towards it I guess."

Now Harry is smiling, and he's leaning down to kiss him, ever so gently, and Draco tangles a hand in his hair, trying to deepen the kiss, but Harry pulls away.

"Okay, so, I don't really, maybe ask me a question? And I can try to answer it."

Harry nods, looking contemplative, and Draco knows him well enough to guess what he's going to ask anyway.

"Can you- do you know why it's hard for you? To talk about it, to show it? I guess… I understand why maybe you wouldn't want everyone to see it in public, but with me."

"I think it's partly because it's hard for me to think of you, Harry Potter, Boy Saviour, wanting to be with me, Draco Malfoy, Child Death Eater. And I thought if I could keep that part hidden, it could just be us, Draco and Harry. That if you saw it it would remind you who I am, and that I would-" He has to stop, because tears are threatening to spill from his eyes, and he'll be damned if he cries again. He isn't really sure where that came from but faced with Harry intense green gaze it had suddenly seemed so clear. "I was afraid that I would lose you."

The soothing motion of Harry's hand on his face and neck had stopped, and Draco is forced to open his eyes from where he'd closed them.

"I know who you are, Draco. I know who you were, and you're not going to lose me. Not over that, hopefully not ever."

He'd said it before but somehow Draco is only hearing him now, only just understanding him.

"I know you said you were ready to talk about it, and I want you too, I want you to tell me what you're comfortable with, and what you're feeling, but I think I need to say this, and I think it needs to be heard, okay?"

Draco nods, lifting his own hand to stroke Harry's hip when he shifts away from a little, lying down facing Draco instead of hovering over him.

"I don't think you're a Death Eater, I'm not sure I ever really did. I think that you were a scared child, scared for yourself and for your parents. I think that you were used to listening when they told you to do something and that you didn't know how to defy them, especially under such extreme circumstances. I think that you never wanted to hurt anybody. You were a prat sure, you still are, and sometimes you say things that you probably shouldn't, that hurt the people you're saying them too, but Draco, even if I hadn't reacted, I don't think that Crucio you tried to cast in the bathroom would have worked. That mark, it doesn't make you evil, I'm not even sure it really makes you a _Death Eater_. I think it makes you someone who was thrust into the middle of war too young by his parents, and who didn't know how to navigate the beliefs he'd grown up with and the beliefs he's acquired along the way amongst the horrors he was forced to witness. I saw you, so many times, through Voldemort's eyes, and I saw you that year, you were miserable, terrified. I think we're a lot alike, ‘different sides of the same coin' if you will. I did some pretty terrible things myself, more than you ever actually managed really. I know that all wasn't very articulate, and it didn't really make much sense, but I just need you to know that you're not going to lose me."

He's still looking Draco in the eye, his hand is planted on his stomach, even if his ears are tinted red from embarrassment, and Draco knows he's not going to be able to stop the words from coming out this time.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

The grin Harry throws him is so blindingly happy that Draco blinks in surprise.

"I love you too, Draco."

 

***

 

_Nine Months Later_

 

"Merlin's saggy bollocks that hurts!"

He's squeezing his boyfriend's hand so tight he's sure he'll crack a bone, but Harry doesn't seem bothered at all, in fact, he's grinning, the arse, and occasionally laughing when Draco lets loose his more colour vocabulary.

"We're almost done sir, don't worry."

Draco's tempted to look, but the last time he had he'd promptly passed out, and they'd had to stop and let him collect himself, and they'd made him drink the most horrid connection he'd tasted to date called Apple Juice, (why couldn't muggles have pumpkin juice, like regular people?), before the artist would start again, and he really, really just want this to be over with so he can go home.

"There, we're all finished. I'm just going to clean and bandage the area and then we can talk about aftercare, ya?"

Draco waits until he hears the heavy thunk of the machine being put on the table before he looks at his arm.

It's puffy and red, and there are smears of ink along the surface of the skin but he can almost picture how it's going to look when it's healed.

It only takes a few moments for the man to clean and wrap something clear and crinkly of all things around his arm, and he somehow manages to pry his hand out of Harry's in the time. It takes several attempts at straightening his fingers before he manages it, and he goes to pull away, but Harry grabs at it again before he can drop it in his lap, and starts to knead at the muscles in his palm gently. Draco looks nervously at the man but he doesn't even appear to notice, and so Draco allows the action to continue, eventually relaxing as Harry's hands move faster up, to his forearm.

They'd only told their friends a few weeks ago, when it became impossible for them to keep sneaking around, and although they'd all reacted surprising well (Ron, of all people, had even been surprised, claimed he'd known for most of 8th year), Draco was still wary of public affection, where Harry had adjusted spectacularly and often attempted to drape his self across Draco in increasingly public venues. He had yet to try in front of Draco parents, as much as they were already aware of their relationship, but Draco was sure the day would come soon.

"So, I know you'll be tempted to try and heal this with magic. Don't. There's something about the ink that doesn't interact well with spells or potions, and it usually ends up blotchy and discoloured, if not disappearing completely. If you want to imbue the ink with a charm to make them move, call as soon as it's finished healing and I'll book you an appointment with Sarah." Harry had booked Draco an appointment at the same parlour where he'd has his done. The majority of the staff was muggle, but a couple of the artists were squibs, and one of them, Sarah, was a witch, who specialized in charmed and enchanted tattoos and piercings. It was an interesting integration of Muggle and Wizarding culture Draco had to admit, and, looking down at his new tattoo, covering the whole of his left forearm, very beautiful.

"Now you should keep on this wrap for a couple of hours at least, but take it off before you go to sleep tonight and wash the area again with a mild soap. After that apply an unscented moisturizer, or skin potion regularly to keep it from cracking. Try to avoid submerging it in water, localized water repelling charms seem to work okay, but I don't recommend using them regularly if you can help it. Make sure you call or come by if you notice anything unusual. We keep a supply of Wizard friendly potions on hand in case of infection or other medical emergencies. St. Mungo's is likely just to wipe the whole area clean of any foreign body, and that includes the ink, so we want to avoid that if we can. Of course, if something happens and you want to get the work redone I'm happy to redo it for a much-reduced price, just the bare minimum supplies prices. Do you have any questions?"

Draco doesn't, so he shakes his head, and reaches for Harry hand, where is had let his go.

"No, we don't. Thank you."

"Of course, I'm happy too."

He smiles as he leaves the room, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder in a familiar manner, before closing the door behind him.

"How does it feel?"

"Sore."

Harry laughs, dragging a hand across the clean inside of the opposite forearm.

"I bet, but that's not what I meant."

"Oh. I don't. Good, I guess. I don't regret it but… I'm not sure about it yet. I think I'll love it though. Like we talk about. Reclamation. Ask me again tomorrow."

Harry smiles, and leans down for a quick kiss, before standing and pulling Draco up with him.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'll make you one of those cheese and ham toasties you love so much, and then we can spend the rest of the day reading."

Draco smiles at him, grateful that Harry seems to understand his need for quiet contemplation right then. He can't help gazing down at his arm as Harry leads him out the room. The Narcissus flowers are beautiful, delicate in various states of bloom, and he thinks the white-pink-yellow contrasts nicely with the faded grey of the mark.

It had taken him months after that first conversation to take off his shirt, and to his surprise, it had been something unconscious, public, at the end of the term when all the 8th years and stripped down to their underthings and launched themselves into the lake. He hadn't even thought about it, simply followed suit, only realizing what he'd done once he was in the water, but nobody else had noticed, no one except for Harry, who had grasped his hand tightly under the water, and grinned at him like he was proud, like what Draco had done was some big step towards their future happiness, and Draco supposed it probably was. Months and talking and working on accepting it himself, and he'd gotten comfortable enough with it to forget its presence, just for a moment, and join in on the fun.

"Draco? Are you coming?"

Harry's waiting for him by the door of the parlour, both their jackets in hand and Draco smiles gently, kissing him, before slipping on his jacket and nudging him out the door.

"Of course I am. Let's go home."


End file.
